Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

his kind, ruled the entire continent. This would be no young, human-raised novice like Kyl; this would be a monster, an inhuman beast who would snap up two interlopers without a second thought.

“I come here many a time,” her companion suddenly remarked. Shade stared at the stunning view. “The cool air refreshes the mind.”

The dying light still enabled Valea to see far too much. She tightened her hold on the warlock, finding comfort in his stolid presence. Shade no longer tensed at her touch.

Not her touch, the sorceress reminded herself. It was Galani who was fascinated with Shade, not her. Valea only felt what the elf experienced.

She could not blame Galani, of course. Weeks, even months, must have passed from the first memory to this latest one, and there had only been Shade to be of comfort to the elf. Arak’s mad work-and even now Valea was not certain if he could truly do what he desired-had taken its toll, turning a once-loved cousin into a monster akin to those he sought to destroy.

In the distance, something fluttered among the mountains. At first, it looked like a man-sized dragon, but then Valea made out limbs almost human save that the knees were reversed. It was also of a dusky gray color and had a face like a bird of prey. Had it stood next to her, it would have towered over her than Shade.

He felt her renewed tension. Following her gaze, Shade eyed the distant figure. “The Seeker will not try anything. His kind has learned not to where I am concerned.”

As if to prove that, the avian suddenly swerved gracefully away from their lofty position. The wide, beautiful wings beat faster and faster, quickly sending the Seeker out of sight.

“I want to leave,” Valea whispered.

“First, tell me what you saw.”

She looked at him. “Arak has become a monster.”

He cocked his head to one side much as Lord Gryphon, who shared with the Seekers an avian look, did when concentrating. “A monster?”

The words came tumbling out as Valea described what she had seen. The renewed memory caused her to shiver again. Perhaps misunderstanding the cause of her action, Shade wrapped both his arm and cloak tighter around her. The sorceress fought back the great temptation to bury her head in his shoulder as she finished her tale.

“His transformation is temporary, Galani,” A touch of concern tinted his words. “But he’s gone beyond what I suggested. The Wyr Stone is powerful, seductive. I warned him of its tendency to magnify one’s desire beyond what one truly wishes! When they tried to save themselves in the end, it only quickened the changing, made them worse than what they might have been-”

“Who?”

“Friends. Loved ones. Fools.” He would not let her press further. “It should have remained lost. I should have never told him about it.”

“Sh-Tylan. What is he trying to do with the Wyr Stone? I know he’s trying to destroy the Dragon Kings, but how? What will it do to them?”

For a brief second, she saw an expression, one that hinted of gratitude. “You always call me Tylan. Your cousin calls me Shade, just as all others do. The names I pick are always remembered, but in the end everyone calls me Shade. I strive to be more than the dark legend, to once again be the man, even if always a slightly different man.” A gloved hand rose and caressed her cheek ever so slightly, then withdrew as if having presumed too much. The gratitude vanished from the warlock’s voice as he finally answered her question. “Arak is an elf. Your people do not seek to destroy. Such an act is anathema to them. However, your cousin has found a way around that, so to speak. You cannot destroy what does not exist.”

“What do you mean?”

In answer, he extended one arm toward the vast tableau before them. “Imagine if you could make it so that these mountains had never been. Imagine if you could cause them to revert to their state before the violence of the world thrust them up toward the sky. So will Arak do to the Dragon Kings, if he is successful. A much smaller scale than transforming a mountain chain, but difficult nonetheless.”

Valea frowned, trying to make sense of what he said. “Do you mean that somehow he will unmake the drake lords and their people? They will cease to be?”

“In a sense. The Wyr Stone is the antithesis of this land. Some say it was a part of the essence of the Void, that great emptiness beyond our realm. When it was sought by the others in the past, they saw in it a way to reverse what the land did to them. It will take the magic around us, turn it inside out-so to speak-and make of the drakes what they would have been had not this cursed world played its own game.”

He spoke of the Dragonrealm as if it was a living thing, a notion her own father had pushed from time to time. If she understood Shade, somehow the land itself had transformed other creatures into the drakes, creating their race. The Wyr Stone would undo this, a phenomenal concept.

No Dragon Kings. Instead, there would be a world of elves and humans-and whatever harmless race Arak would make the drakes become. Surely not so bad a thing. On the surface, Arak’s arduous efforts looked to be worth any cost. How often had Valea heard her father or Lord Gryphon or especially King Melicard speak of a world where the Dragon Kings had never caused so much calamity?

“It’s-it’s incredible!”

“Incredible and dangerous . . . and from what you describe to me, perhaps beyond your cousin’s reach. Clearly the Wyr Stone is overwhelming him in the process and he is only halfway to his goal.”

“Halfway?” From what the sorceress had seen, the elf had looked very near his goal, too near.

The blurred face seemed even more so now. “Did you imagine erasing an entire race from the world a simple task? Why do you think those who originally used the Wyr Stone failed? When Arak told me he had found it, I was at first astounded, but your cousin is an elf of exceptional ability. When he claimed to understand why those before him had failed to control it, I made the mistake of believing him. I see now how terrible a mistake that is. He must be stopped before he destroys himself-and possibly much around him.”

It did not matter any more that all this had apparently taken place long, long ago. Valea only knew that something catastrophic was happening and that Galani’s cousin might not only bring down the Dragon Kings, but possibly himself and much of the rest of the land in the process.

“What can we do?”

Shade paused, then, with even greater hesitation than earlier, answered, “To save your cousin, Galani-and perhaps much, much more-you must put a dagger through his heart.”

VI

Gasping, Valea awoke, her body covered in sweat.

The warlock’s last words echoed through her head. you must put a dagger through his heart . . .

So horrified was she by what Shade had said that at first her surroundings did not register with her. Only gradually did Valea realize that she no longer stood by the staircase. Instead, she lay fully-clothed atop her bed as if having gone to take a nap. Night still reigned, hopefully the same night.

As she moved her left hand, something slid from her grasp.

Despite a lack of much light, the silver dagger glistened.

Rolling off the plush bed, Valea glared at the horrid object. Galani’s ghostly plea came back to haunt her. I had to do it, didn’t I?

Now she felt she understood better what the ghostly image had represented. The elf had evidently done just what Shade had suggested-but something must have gone wrong.

More cautious than ever, Valea reached for the treacherous blade, but this time, instead of leaping to her fingers, the dagger faded . . . as if a dream.

Frustrated beyond belief, the young sorceress vented her anger at the walls around her. “What is it you want?” she demanded of the Manor. “What are you trying to show me?”

But the walls remained maddeningly silent, not that Valea had truly expected them to answer in such a